#cheslock is always SO FUN to draw

[stingray-art]

Weston College P4 “Drudges”

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

p4 + f5 with an SO who likes to bake and do like cookie decorating?

where’s MY S/O who makes pretty and delicious sweets for me….. these boys don’t know how lucky they are………………..

CHESLOCK

… So, to start with, he now gets first dibs on everything they bake! He’s got a massive sweet tooth so to have him attempting to sneak bites of all the cookies and shit is pretty much unavoidable. And actually, he doesn’t sneak. He doesn’t tiptoe around grabbing them while his S/O’s back is turned, he doesn’t do puppy-dog eyes to beg them for some, and he doesn’t trade favors. He pretty much just blatantly snatches whatever he wants and eats it in full view of his S/O. If they need him to not eat even one bite, they probably need to start smacking his hands away, because no matter what they do otherwise, that’s the only way he’ll listen.

CLAYTON

Well, as long as it makes them happy, that’s what matters, right? He doesn’t have super strong feelings on the matter one way or another. He just views it as something they enjoy doing, so as long as that’s true, he certainly isn’t going to raise a fuss about it either way. Of course, if they want him to sample whatever they’re making, he’ll do it happily. He’s not huge on sweets, as in he won’t seek them out over anything else, but he does indulge from time to time. Surprisingly, he likes the decorations more than actually eating the cookies. His S/O is incredibly talented with their hands, and it amazes him what they can do.

EDGAR

Oh, good God, yesssss. The fact that his S/O likes to bake is ― pun intended ― the cherry on top for him. His sweet tooth isn’t quite as bad as Cheslock’s, but it’s still pretty bad. He has a weakness for red velvet and buttercream, don’t judge him! He’s also got a weakness for the aesthetics that often come along with pastry decoration and the like, so his eyes just light up when he sees his S/O’s creations. One of his usual things is to give a pitiful sigh and say, “Why did you have to make these? They’re too pretty to eat!” It’s like they’re teasing him, and even though he’s still going to eat whatever they’ve made, he likes to poke a little fun.

EDWARD

Of course, it’s a rather common hobby they have, isn’t it? Even so, he has a certain admiration for the things they’re able to accomplish with some frosting and fondant. A lot of their decorated sweets look like things that his sister would like, or things that just remind him of her. Looking at whatever his S/O has made, he gets this soft, fond look on his face. Although he isn’t usually tempted by sugary things, he’ll still gladly taste their creations if they ask him to. Honestly, he’ll probably ask them to make some things for Lizzie’s next birthday… and be surprised that (Name) will do some for his birthday, too.

GREGORY

Ohh… well, that’s actually like a form of visual art. It’s not quite the same as his own sketches and paintings, but it’s in the same sort of area. The creations his S/O makes require the same careful hand as his drawings, the same understanding of structure and color. And, even better than his own work ― theirs can actually be eaten. Mmm. Although he isn’t as much of a sugar fiend as some of his friends, his downfall is anything made with lavender or plum. If(Name) makes anything with those and turns their back for a second, it will disappear very quickly. He often has to confess soon after thanks to the immediate stomachache he gets from eating so fast.

HERMAN

If that’s something they enjoy, then honestly, more power to them. It clearly takes a deft hand to do things like that, with all that attention to detail, so they’re undoubtedly talented. He can respect what his S/O does even if it’s not necessarily something he’s into; he always does like seeing the end results. And despite his assertions that he isn’t a fan of sweets, he’ll still eat every single thing they put in front of him. Not only eat it, he’ll enjoy it, too! Though he’s a little more stoic about it than some of the others, he still makes sure to give them a proud smile whenever they show something off to him.

JOANNE

Oh, that’s… that’s such an incredible thing they can do! He thinks they’re like miniature works of art, and what’s more, they’re food?? He’s completely mesmerized that they’re able to make such perfect-looking things that are edible. It’s certainly more impressive than anything he can do. He tries to pretend like he’s not completely brought to his knees by sweet things, but… well… after one bite, followed by another, and another, and on,he really can’t hide it. Good news? He’ll taste-test anything for them. Bad news? Like Gregory, he might ignore his limits and end up with an upset tummy a few times. All in the name of delicious sweets, though!

LAWRENCE

Surely they know his mind is more intellectually inclined than artistically, and yet… he can’t help praising his S/O for their efforts. Maybe in spite of the fact that he isn’t gifted at those kinds of things, he’s impressed. Even though he tries to act unaffected, the truth is that he always smiles when he’s looking at their creations. He’s got a small sweet tooth, too, so he has exactly no problems eating anything they give him. Actually, looking at and eating whatever they make him tends to be relaxing for him. However, don’t expect that to mean he won’t also give them detailed notes on both taste and presentation…

SOMA

Ohhhh, goodness, no, no… they can’t do this to him!! He can feel his teeth starting to rot just by looking at all the things they’ve made. Not only does he plan to eat as much as they’ll let him ― it’s all so cute! Obviously people eat with their eyes first, and that includes Soma. He’s in the same camp as Edgar, quietly whining in Hindi about how his S/O’s creations are all too gorgeous to be eaten. That… doesn’t stop him, though, because they also taste incredible. Although he might not get a stomachache from eating too much or too fast, he’ll definitely get a little (hopefully) temporary tooth pain from all the sugar. He thinks it’s completely worth it, though.

[queencamellia]

Daily Life of the Midfords

A/N: This was originally written for @wife-of-queens-watchdog for the @faustianexchange (make sure to join this next year!), but I switched prompts midway for a sweet Cielizzy fic. I stumbled upon this again and decided to finish it lol. :3

Timeline: Sometime after the Public School arc & before the Green Witch arc.

Victorian England particularly stresses the importance of social etiquette. “One must always conduct themselves in such a behavior befitting of one’s class,” one of his mother’s friends once told Edward, patting his cheek with her gaudy pink fan. “You’re a good, proper boy. Nothing like my rascal of a son.”

The Midfords, to the majority of Victorian elite, are always kind, cordial, and charming despite their superior monetary status. Their manners are impeccable, and their comments rarely elicit any sort of resentment or dislike. They are, as many whisper, the shining example of true Victorian nobles.

“How proper she is,” they whisper of Francis Midford, unbeknowning of the calculating nature and mild distaste behind the former Phantomhive’s cordial compliments. “A good wife that has done her duty in raising two marvellous children.”

“How sweet and delicate she is,” they whisper of Elizabeth Midford, unaware of the steel warrior underneath the dimpled smiles, the swords beneath her petticoats, and even the loyal knight underneath her princess-like conduct. “She would make a nice and docile wife for my son.”

“How strong he is,” they whisper of Alexis Midford, ignorant of his father’s true strength (his heart) and fooled by his genial and lighthearted nature. “He is our knight.”

“How kind he is,” they whisper of Edward himself, oblivious of the ruthless measures he can (will) take for the sake of his family. “He will make England proud, someday.”

Edward is aware of all of these whispers, but follows his parents’ precedent and feigns ignorance anyways. Although it’s considered more of an “unrefined” American game, his father once taught him how to play poker. Edward knows better than to reveal his cards before the game’s over.

He is sitting ramrod-straight in front of an ornate rosewood table. Placed in front of him is the possibly the most traditional of English breakfasts: back bacon, eggs, British sausage, and various fried vegetables. To his right is a servant perched over the coffee table, pouring another cup of coffee for his father. Edward’s father always drinks coffee at breakfast, to his mother’s everlasting annoyance.

It’s relaxing to be around his family again. Their presence is comforting; it helps Edward cope with what would forever be known as the “incident” amongst Edward and his fellow Weston College prefects. Ciel had told him that he wouldn’t turn out like the former Weston prefects, pointing out Edward’s guilty conscience as evidence. Unfortunately, his cousin’s words weren’t enough to assuage Edward’s fears.

I could’ve ended up like them. I would have acted just as blindly, just as recklessly, and definitely just as foolish if Ciel hadn’t revealed the truth. Edward’s realization that day had shaken him to his very foundation, but spending time with his family drives away his fears. His family is his anchor: his mother’s stern looks and sister’s bright countenance ground him.

“We forgot to congratulate you,” his father says suddenly, setting down his coffee mug, “...about your promotion to prefect.”

There are many words left unsaid. Edward is certain that his parents know there is more to the story. Ciel’s presence at the boarding school definitely fueled their suspicions.

“Sir?” Edward asks immediately, then flushes a bright red. It’s nearly instinctual to call older men ‘sir’ thanks to Weston’s strict protocols. “Thank you, Father,” he amends, fixtating his gaze on his plate awkwardly. He thought himself past the phase of teenage gangliness, but he supposes he is wrong. It’s somewhat humiliating; Edward Midford is supposed to be strong and bold, not diffident and gauche.

He stabs at a slice of bacon with his fork, a feeble attempt at distracting himself from the awkward atmosphere that has enveloped the dining room. Alexis Midford, for all of his strengths, has never been one to talk about feelings: that role had always been allotted to Lizzy.

Speaking of his sister, Lizzy is beaming at the pair, most likely pleased that they are on slightly better terms. After being defeated by Ciel in the cricket match, Edward’s father hadn’t been angry with him, per say, but Edward’s been unable to look at his father properly in the eye since, despite his father’s multiple talks about how failure makes one stronger.

His sister clears her throat, catching their family’s attention and eliciting a stern look from their mother. “One of the servants brought to my attention that there’s a new comedy showing at St. James’ Theatre.”

“Lady Windermere’s Fan?” Their father asks, his face breaking out into an attractive grin that Edward knows he has inherited. “Why,  I was just talking to Viscount Arbuthnott of the matter.”

“It sounds horribly improper,” Francis sniffs. “A man running off to have a love affair with his wife’s mother, for shame.”

“You mean you wouldn’t attempt to elope with our dear Ciel?” Their father teases, his comment instantly infuriating his wife.

“Alexis!” she rebukes sharply, but when their father lays a hand down gently on hers, her sharp look softens. Edward and Lizzy exchange uncomfortable looks as their parents gaze at each other with sickeningly sweet adoration. Edward briefly wonders how the prudish aristocrats would react if they witnessed such...well, as Lizzy says, “lovey-dovey” exchanges between his parents.

To Edward’s immense relief, Lizzy clears her throat, cutting off their parents’ blatant adoration of each other and drawing their attention to her. “Mother, Father? I was hoping to attend the play with a few...friends.”

Their mother has always been quick-witted, immediately noting Lizzy’s aversion of aforementioned friends’ names. “Of whom are you speaking of, Lizzy?”

“W-well, Ciel will be there,” Lizzy says brightly. She’s oblivious of the way their parents’ eyes sharpen. “And I have kept a healthy correspondence with several of the boys we’ve met at Weston during the cricket tournament.”

“So they’re all boys?” Alexis demands, managing to sound both like a British knight and like an overprotective, clingy father at the same time.

“Well, Earl Grey and Earl Phipps should be attending,” Lizzy responds cheerfully. “Don’t fret so much, Father! They can keep an eye on us.”

The mention of Double Charles definitely does not comfort Alexis Midford in the slightest way. “More boys?”

“...Nina may accompany me,” Lizzy suggests meekly, sensing both Edward’s and his father’s growing consternation. Her offer doesn’t assuage Edward’s suspicions (he’s not going to let a bunch of little punks hang around his precious little sister, dammit), but their father relaxes. Lizzy senses her opening and pounces. “I’ve really been looking forward to this outing, Father,” she insists emphatically, pulling all stops -- pleading eyes, pursed lips, and all. “May I please go?”

Their father visibly wilts as he acquiesces, “Take Paula and invite one of your female companions along.”

“Father!” Edward protests immediately, but his sister is already out of her seat.

Beaming, she hurries over to their father, pressing kisses to both of his cheeks and giving him an affectionate hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squeals, emerald eyes sparkling with excitement. “Oh, this will be so much fun!” She then turns to Edward, staring at him innocently. “Is something the matter, big brother?”

He can’t bear to extinguish the light in her eyes. “Nothing,” he grinds out. “When do you plan to attend the theatre?”

“Tomorrow evening,” Lizzy admits, giving her brother an affectionate pat on the shoulder and pressing a kiss to her mother’s cheek before bounding off to her room, dismissing herself from their meal. Lizzy has always been an unstoppable whirlwind of surprises, but this time he still needs a few more minutes to process exactly what had occurred.

“...Edward,” Francis says, taking a sip of tea.

His mother’s voice is cold, commanding, and undoubtedly Phantomhive. Edward unconsciously straightens his spine. “Yes, Mother?” His heart pounds with hope that they will grant him permission. Alexis is giving her a similar hopeful expression.

Francis Midford nee Phantomhive gives him a slow, serious look. “...make sure you watch over sister.”

Edward beams. Parental approval granted. “Of course!”

“Is your brother not coming?”

Lizzy blinks, then turns around with a half-upturned smile. “Earl Grey,” she greets, curtsying. The formal gesture irritates the Queen’s butler, judging by the prevalent scowl on his face. “Unfortunately, my brother had prior arrangements,” she says regretfully. Although she loves Edward Midford to the moon and back, she doesn’t want him to use his precious vacation time chaperoning her to a play. Edward never likes such productions, anyways.

Earl Grey gives her a measured look, his silver eyes darting to her left where other nobles are engaging in conversation. “Hm. Is that so?” he mutters mainly to himself, shrugging and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well, his loss. Wilde’s works are usually decent.”

Lizzy visibly perks up. “You read Wilde’s works?”

“His poems, mostly.”

Lizzy brightens.

(Disguised as Cheslock’s nonexistent cousin, Edward laughs along with some of his companions’ jokes as he glares daggers at Earl Grey for being so close to his little sister. For Heaven’s sake, where was that man’s propriety? Nobody needed to be that close to discuss literature, dammit--)

“Oh, good evening, Earl Phipps,” Lizzy chirps, skipping over to the other silver-haired noble.

“Lady Midford,” Phipps greets, bowing his head in respect.

Lizzy giggles and swats at his arm with a fan. “Lady Midford is my mother. Please, just call me ‘Lizzy.’”

“As you wish, Lady Lizzy. Please, just call me Phipps.”

(Edward glowers. How dare such a man act so casually with his little sister!)

“Cieeeeeeeeeel!”

“Lizzy!” Ciel groans, prying her off. She purposefully slackens her grip so he can push her off and frowns at him.

“Aren’t you happy to see your cute fiance?” comes Grey’s voice, amused and almost accusing.

“Cute?” Lizzy repeats, indignant as she places a hand on her hips and flips her hair, the epitome of grace. Obviously. “I’ll have you know, earl, that I am pretty and beautiful. Ciel’s cute.”

Ciel squawks, turning red. “Elizabeth,” Ciel hisses, cheeks burning. “Enough.”

“I mean, look at his smile! Oh, and his ears are so red. Ne, ne, Ciel? I have a new outfit in mind that would suit you well.”

“Are there ruffles?”

“...no…”

“Ribbons?”

“...no…”

“Frills.”

“...maybe a little…” Lizzy pouts. “You’re no fun. Come on, Ciel: let’s enjoy the play to its fullest!”

“I didn’t want to come to the play,” grumbles Ciel. His eyes, however, speak differently.

(Cheslock has to physically restrain Edward from approaching the pair to pummel Ciel to the ground for speaking so callously to his precious little sister.)

“Mother! Father!” Lizzy flies into the sitting room, shrieking in a rather unladylike way. Her parents indulge her, regardless, and hold out their arms for a group hug. “The play was amazing,” she babbled. “We must attend it together, sometime. I think you will enjoy it, Mother. The actors were perfect for their roles. Oh, where’s Edward?”

“Here, Lizzy,” Edward says, appearing in the doorway. Her brother smiles gently at her and ruffles her hair as she launches forward to give him a hug. “So you liked the play? Did any of those ruffians try to pull anything on you?”

“Honestly, brother,” Lizzy huffs, giggling. “You worry too much. I almost thought that you’d come to whisk me away during intermission.”

Edward twitches. “And have you miss the second act? I think not,” he laughs. Her brother is much too considerate and kind, but Lizzy doesn’t mind. If anyone tries to cross their family and spit on his kindness, her sabres are ready.

“I would’ve liked to have Ciel come for dinner, but everyone seemed like they were in a hurry to leave,” Lizzy pouts. Unbeknownst to her, Edward gives a nod towards their parents and mouths “mission accomplished” behind her back. “Dinner after a play sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“How about this, then? We’ll all go see a play of your choice at the week’s end,” their father suggests genially. “Family is important, and we should do something together before Edward leaves for Weston.”

“Yes!” Lizzy cheers, embracing their father wholeheartedly.

Edward laughs, glancing to his side to look at his mother. Although she portrays herself as a cold woman, he can easily discern her telltale signs of contentedness.

“Happy, mother?” Edward asks quietly as they watch the raucous father-daughter duo laugh and chatter.

Francis Midford exhales, a genuine smile curving across her lips. “Of course.”